I am lying down on my back. Naked. Cold. I see the ceiling, the strip light and the neat, white tiles like masses of teeth. I hear footsteps approaching. Louder and louder. A man leans over me. He is wearing a white coat. His pens in his pocket are all lined up. His stethoscope is dangling around his neck and as he leans over me it scrapes lightly across my skin. The tool is not cold. The light which he holds is bright, but I cannot blink. My eyes remain fixed, motionless, looking constantly on the ceiling. The man's hand reaches to my neck and his hands burn my skin. The pain is excruciating. I try to open my mouth, but the only voice I hear is the one inside my head, screaming, screaming, screaming for the pain of his hand to stop. As if my screams were heard, the pain ceases. I see the man look at his watch, and he sighs. He bows his head, and for the first time he speaks. "Such a young lad for this to happen to". He pulls a sheet, white, crisp, and clean over my body and head, and I hear retreating footsteps. Please don't leave me. I am scared. It's lonely here. Please don't go. Please help me...

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